


we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the louvre

by scorpio-risings (aureliamayy)



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Romantic Getaway, They are so so in love, Tropical Vacation, almost like a social media au but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliamayy/pseuds/scorpio-risings
Summary: The election is behind them, and Alex and Henry are more than ready to start being a normal couple. Royal schedules and First Son schedules aren't exactly conducive to that - but Alex is Alex and he always finds a way.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 355





	we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the louvre

For the first few weeks after their official announcement, Alex and Henry are publicly silent about their relationship. There are no interviews, no casual Twitter mentions, no photos aside from the now-viral shoot at Kensington. The world needs to focus on the election; the First Son’s illicit affair with a prince can wait. The tabloids disagree, of course, and they go on with their wild speculations as per usual. They even begin to churn out rumors that the two have split - what other explanation could there possibly be for their social media absences?   
  


The election comes and goes, and Alex’s life starts to move very, very fast again. A slew of meetings and dinners and more meetings fills his days, and his nights are spent drinking coffee and neurotically filling out law school applications. Life was supposed to slow down after November 3rd; Alex was supposed to wind down for once, to let himself really think about his future. Not just his career’s future - his future with Henry.

They’ve been talking since election night, but not nearly as much as either would like. It’s all texts under the table at meetings, Snapchats in the wee hours of the night, video calls when their hectic schedules allow for more than 10 minutes of free time. Henry promises he’ll be settled in Brooklyn by March, before their birthdays for sure. It’s not soon enough.

After a particularly frustrating run-in with an aggressively conservative senator he had no reason to speak to in the first place, Alex has reached his limit. He storms to his bedroom, orders himself Thai food, and has an incredibly stupid idea. Impulsively doing things out of spite is his brand.

Henry answers his phone on the second ring.

“Will you go on vacation with me? I kinda wanna go to Spain.”

“What?” Henry replies, monotone and flat. Alex checks the time - it’s 2am in London.

“You sound like you were actually asleep for once.”

“Yeah, I was until you woke me up and tried to drag me to a random Spanish political event”

“There is no  _ political event _ ,” Alex retorts. “I’m stressed and you’re stressed and I want to see you. Also it’s cold outside and I want to look at a palm tree.” He can hear Henry shifting around, can practically see him running a hand through his hair. He wishes they were beside each other.

“You know Spain isn’t exactly tropical, yes?”

“The average November temperature in Tenerife, Spain is 74 degrees Fahrenheit, and yes, the Canary Islands count as Spain. That’s 23.3 degrees Celcius, you fucking left-side-of-the-road Brit.”

After a brief debate surrounding which temperature measuring system the world should use (Henry of Team Celcius wins), Alex buys plane tickets, texts Cash, and texts his mom. In that order.

* * *

“You cannot go on an  _ island vacation _ with your boyfriend during  _ Thanksgiving.  _ This family gets together two times a year and we are going to play nice and eat turkey together  _ in the United States.” _

Ellen was not too pleased to hear about her son’s November plans, and even less pleased that she found out from Zahra who found out from Amy who found out from June. Alex had failed to consider that Thanksgiving was, in fact, a thing that he should maybe schedule his impromptu romantic getaways around. But the money was spent and frankly, he doesn’t give a shit about cranberry sauce.

“My boyfriend is British, Mom. He doesn’t even know what Thanksgiving is. And I’m never eating turkey again after last year’s _incident._” That menacing gobble still haunts him.

“I’m pretty sure I saw you eating a turkey sandwich yesterday.”

“It was ham. And I’m going to Spain in two weeks.” He extends his hand in a wave and books it out of her office, ignoring her frustrated sigh. She’s not  _ actually  _ angry; he knows the difference between pissed off Ellen and protective mom Ellen. This is the latter.

* * *

A significant part of the First Son’s millennial appeal was his social media presence - half his tweets political, the rest dumb jokes and pop culture commentary and weird pictures of June. There was nothing Republican senators loved more than retweeting his “bitch mcconnell” tweets with some drawn-out jab at Alex’s “utter lack of respect for great American leaders”, to which Alex would promptly reply “ok cool”. He once did a live tour of his closet on Instagram. He has had an hour-long argument with his mother over whether or not his thirst-trap selfies are beneficial to his approval ratings (conclusion: they are).

To Alex, the posts are less about getting fans and more about being able to show a more real version of himself to the public, not one polished by press releases or twisted by tabloids. He’s always liked to have fun with his online persona, but being with Henry has changed things. His true self, he’s realized, isn’t quite who he thought he was. A little softer, a little more down to earth, and a lot more vulnerable. And that’s a side of himself he doesn’t need the world to see.

With Henry generally being a more private person than Alex, they had agreed to keep their relationship off the internet for a short while after they went public with it. They needed to keep to themselves for a bit; it was what they deserved after becoming a worldwide headline for weeks. 

A small handful of people know about their Thanksgiving adventure. It’s a pretty short affair - a Wednesday to a Sunday - but the fact that they managed to coordinate their schedules for five days of freedom is a miracle in itself. They found a hotel small and secluded enough to be safe, and Cash and Shaan follow their every move just far away enough to not make things awkward. Henry and him are used to being followed, anyways - it’s all they’ve ever known, and they’re happy to sacrifice total privacy for nearly a week together away from the rest of the world. 

It’s their second night there but the first they’re able to really enjoy, their arrival day cut short by jet lag and the all-consuming distraction of being alone together for the first time in weeks. Day two is spent lounging on beach chairs and then pool chairs and then beach chairs again, just basking in each others’ presence and allowing themselves to take a goddamn breath for once. They’ve earned this. They need it.

The sun has just started to set when they migrate poolside again. Alex sits on Henry’s chair by his feet, constantly distracting him from some fancy classic novel with commentary on the passerby, trying to force a little Spanish out of Henry just to laugh at him, whatever else he can think of. Barely fifteen minutes have gone by when Henry slams his book shut. 

“Okay, this isn’t going anywhere. Get in the pool with me,” he says, standing up suddenly and grabbing Alex by the arm.

“Oh come on, my hair actually looks so good today, please, I’m not getting my hair wet right now, oh my God - “

Henry is much stronger than Alex, and it doesn’t take much effort to shove him into the water. Alex resurfaces with a grimace, sticking his tongue out at Henry, but his joy is poorly hidden.

They splash around the pool for way too long, chasing and teasing and laughing like stupid teenage boys. It’s quiet nearby, but the few people who pass definitely stare - but Alex and Henry couldn’t possibly care less.

The sun brushes against the horizon, the final few minutes of golden hour slipping away. Henry, who already looks like a Greek god at any given moment, is practically  _ glowing  _ in the sunlight. His wet hair, his slightly-burnt shoulders, his unguarded smile - Alex wants to stare at him forever. He wants to frame this image on his wall, to pin it tightly to the bulletin board above his desk and look at it every morning. He calls out to Cash, who’s been having what seems like the most entertaining conversation of all time with the bartender despite ordering nothing but Diet Cokes. 

“Hey, Cash - will you come take a picture of us?”

It’s  _ far  _ from the weirdest request Alex has made to the poor guy, but seeing Cash kneel down by the pool, iPhone in hand, fiddling with the lighting and making sure Henry and Alex are perfectly posed is the funniest thing Alex has ever seen. It feels right in the strangest way, and when he sees the picture that night -

_ Oh. _

Alex is just in front of Henry, back pressed against chest, the waterline coming just above their hips. Alex’s hand rests on his own shoulder, where his fingers interlock with Henry’s - who has his nose nearly buried in Alex’s mop of wet curls. His phone’s camera doesn’t quite catch Henry’s ethereal golden glow, but it’s pretty damn close - close enough that they agree this one can make it to Instagram. The world would be a better place with this masterpiece of an image in it.

Alex drops the photo on his Instagram, not even bothering to add a caption. The picture speaks for itself, he figures - and his millions of followers agree. The next morning, Henry’s sunkissed skin and Alex’s messy hair have made their way to Buzzfeed and People and the like. Nora has texted them both “y’all cute as fuck”; Pez has flooded the comment section with every available heart emoji. It’s a relief to get some positive media attention for once - attention that they actually  _ asked  _ for and anticipated. But still, their social media feeds turn back to radio silence for the rest of the trip - they still need a vacation from the rest of the world, even if the rest of the world didn’t exactly want a vacation from them.

They’re back to their hectic routines far sooner than they would like; their short time together seemed to have only increased their longing for each other instead of satisfying it. Henry texts Alex under the table at every royal meeting, and Ellen is constantly telling Alex to get off his damn phone, the hint of a smile on her face. Nora sends him a link to a fanfiction about his and Henry’s “wild tropical getaway”, and Alex laughs his way through it before realizing that it’s somehow making him miss Henry more.  _ Everything  _ makes him miss Henry these days, and everybody teases Alex about it, and he feels so helplessly, stupidly, in love.

He breaks their social media rule one more time, at 4am, with a single, simple tweet that he'll probably delete the next day:  _ please come to dc, baby _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr at scorpio-risings <3


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